


My Favourite

by NeamhainWitchly



Category: Beauty and the Beast (1991)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-14 19:36:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15395922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeamhainWitchly/pseuds/NeamhainWitchly





	My Favourite

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Beatrice_Otter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beatrice_Otter/gifts).



With only a rustle of branches and leaves for warning, Belle landed with a thump on the grass. And nearly on top of a very startled young villager. Only a little older than Belle, Marie watched somewhat aghast as Belle, still reading her book, brushed herself off and walked away. Marie shook her head and brushed herself off as well. Probably going home to that Maurice person. Father wouldn’t even believe this one. 

Nearer to the outskirts of the town, a small boy was staring idly out of his window, counting down the minutes until he could sneak away from his mother again. From the corner of his eye, he saw Belle, walking slowly with nose buried deep in a book. As usual. She was only a few feet away from a little stream and he was wondering if she would stop or just tumble right in. Without looking up from her book, Belle slipped off her shoes, picked them up, and walked right across the stream. Agape, the boy tried not to remember all the times he’d slipped and fallen on those same slippery rocks. 

Belle was very nearly home, when something finally did break her concentration. The sound of a gunshot, followed by a loud crash and what sounded like loud whinnying. Belle snapped her book closed, and ran towards the sound. 

Near the road, only a few turns away from her home, was a small young horse with a foot caught in a farmers fence. It had fallen over from its side, and was already glistening with sweat from struggling to get free, and its eyes were widened in fear. 

Belle looked around for someone to help, or someone to scold for this state of affairs, but there was no one as far as she could see in every direction. While she’d read a fair amount about horses, she did not stop to think about how little experience or training she’d had in dealing with the actual live animal. Nor did she stop to worry about the damage a frightened, injured, yearling horse could inflict on a small young girl. She climbed atop one of the nearby fence posts and sat for a moment. Her hands and fingers twisted in her lap, her lips moved in silent speech, and her feet tapped against the fencing as she thought. 

After a few moments, her hands still fluttering at her sides, she hopped down off the fence post, right next to the horse. It lay there, still and quiet, and watched her. Perhaps it sensed her intent to help, or perhaps it was too exhausted to fight anymore. 

Belle picked up a piece of wood that had been thrown clear with one hand. The other she placed gently beneath the horses hoof. The horse twitched and trembled at her touch, but remained still. Belle pushed the wood underneath the collapsed fencing, and leaned down on it with all her twelve year old strength. The fencing levered out of the way, she slowly lifted out the horse’s foot, and jumped back as the horse surged to its feet. With only a slight limp, it galloped back through the field, presumably to wherever its home was. 

~~~

She had mostly put it from her mind the next day, until she went with her father into the village. She had just come from the bookshop, yesterday’s book having been exchanged for a different one, a saw a crowd. Well, as near to a crowd as a small village could muster. She scurried around the edges looking for her father, then squeezed herself in beside him. 

“I can’t see, Papa, what’s going on?”

The butcher, standing nearby, said “apparently some yearling got itself injured yesterday, and no farmer needs a horse with a bad leg. They’re trying to get something for it, but I don’t know what anyone around here would do with an unrideable, unusable horse.”

Belle grabbed Maurice’s sleeve, and pulled on it. “Papa, can we get him please?” Several of the villagers stared, a few whispering. 

“This one? But you haven’t even seen it. And what would we do with a horse?”

“You’ve always wanted to take your inventions around to fairs and things. And I have a really good feeling about this one.”

Maurice felt in his pocket the few coin that were left. “Well, it is probably the only horse we could afford, but—“

Before he could even finish speaking, Belle was bouncing up and down saying “thank you, thank you, thank you Papa,” and pulling him forward to look at the horse. 

“I’ve even got a name all picked out for him, Papa.”

“Oh?”

“He’s a Prince. Just like my favourite book. We’ll call him Philippe.”

“Philippe?” Maurice chuckled. “I think he’ll bring us very good luck.”


End file.
